


Green Tea (is Natasha's)

by Mysterycheerio



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: But because of medication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Medication, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has ADHD, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tourette's Syndrome, You can tell im british, and peters, but green tea is natahsas favourite, but like, green tea isnt my favourite, i didnt kill him though :), im sorry, im talking about tea, its earl grey, its medication induced tics, not tourettes, oh my god i love tea, sure why not, that is v v british of me if u didnt know, thats the only tag there is, youre welcome my g's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysterycheerio/pseuds/Mysterycheerio
Summary: Peter (the dumbass he is) forgets to take his ADHD meds and ends up taking them at 3am. He doesn't like taking them, as it gives him medication induced tics, but thank god for Natasha Romanov, am I right?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 47
Kudos: 455





	Green Tea (is Natasha's)

**Author's Note:**

> I dont have either of these, so this is just based off of research, so don't be mad please ✌️

Peter lifted his head from his pillow, sniffing as he looked at the time. 2:27 am.

_Well, shit._

He shifted himself to an upright, sitting position, his elbows resting on his thighs, head bowed.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him – why couldn’t he sleep? He could blame it on stress, typical school and his _other commitments_ taking its toll on the teenager.

Is it possible for your body to not allow you to sleep after being scared shitless by reoccurring nightmares of your dead loved ones?

Eh, probably. But he wasn’t a doctor.

He let his head drop again, sighing as he watched his leg bounce of its own accord.

An idea clicked in his head.

 _Fuck_.

He knew it was a bad idea, yet suddenly it was all he could think about.

He was prescribed Ritalin, when he was about 6. Joy. That was sarcasm if you couldn’t tell, Peter really fucking hates it. The funny thing about it though, was often ADHD medication like Ritalin causes people with the disorder to become sleepy.

But, it was a bad idea. He was only supposed to take it 2-3 times a day. Wouldn’t it be overdosing?

Did he take it before dinner today?

_Double fuck._

Thinking it would be better to do it late then never, Peter dragged himself out of bed, using his phone torch to illuminate the room (he couldn’t be bothered to ask Friday to turn the light on). He pulled out a box from underneath his bed, and pulled out the medication.

He trudged sluggishly to the elevator, which took him to the communal floor.

Oh yeah, now he just had to avoid Tony, and the rest of the team.

_Triple fuck._

He filled the kettle up with water, before going to the sink and filling a glass up. He took the pill, chugging down water as he did so.

He got his phone out of his hoodie, and set two timers. One for twenty minutes – when the Ritalin starts to kick in, and one for thirty minutes – when he has to eat something.

He played games on his phone to pass the time, but it still felt like forever. When the first timer went off, he grimaced, and went back to Crossy Road after he’d turned it off.

The second alarm went off, and he miserably went back into the kitchen section to make some food. He put some bread in the toaster.

He shivered involuntarily, before clearing his throat and shrugging his shoulders almost immediately after. He sighed, letting his head rest on the marbled counters.

Remember how Peter doesn’t like taking Ritalin? Yeah, well this is why. People with ADD or ADHD are prescribed medication, but the medication often leads to some type of tic disorder.

Peter hates it.

He hates not being in control of his own body, not knowing when these attacks happen. But, he deals with it.

The kettle clicked, signaling it was time to pour the tea (‘ _now, pour the tea_ ’). He grabbed a mug and placed it on the counter. Then, he opened the overhead cupboards and pulled out a green tea bag.

“Those are my tea bags, Parker.”

Peter whipped around to see Natasha standing in the doorway. When he was in this state.

He felt like ripping his hair out.

It really must have been a sight to seen him, shaking and convulsing while hunched over the counter, an orange prescription bottle just laying there.

But Natasha never asked questions. Peter was grateful for that.

He just forgets that the reason she never asks questions is because she already knows everything.

“Well, you know what they say, Widow. Sharing is caring.”

He turned back to his tea, still switching between humming, shaking, clearing his throat, shrugging his shoulders and huffing. Not necessarily in that order.

He tried to open the tea bag again and again, each time more carelessly as he failed.

At one point, the tea bag fell through his shaking fingers.

“Hey,” she said softly. Oh, Peter didn’t realize she was still here. She put two hands on his wrists, hugging him from behind.

Peter collapsed into tears.

“Let me do it, Милый.”

Peter nodded numbly, watching from the sofa as Natasha prepared his toast and tea.

She stayed as he ate, and they talked about school, science, the shows he watches.

She stayed when Peter fell asleep on her arm.

She fell asleep with him.

She wondered when she got so motherly. But when she looked at the sleeping child in her arms, she decided she didn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> ... comment??


End file.
